


If You Love Me, Come Clean

by ktfics



Series: Ghosting [2]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Character Study, Child Abuse, Getting Together, M/M, Post-New Dangan Ronpa V3, Virtual Reality, vr au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-29 01:53:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18297893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ktfics/pseuds/ktfics
Summary: The game is over but Kaito and Kokichi are not quite done with each other yet. They are alive and they are together, and when past memories begin to surface, the two start to realize their lives are even more intertwined than they previously thought.





	If You Love Me, Come Clean

**Author's Note:**

> Ah it's finally done! I've been wanting to put all my thoughts and headcanons surrounding a post-game VR AU together for a while now and while I'm probably not done writing about this setting here's most of them! I also included some of my own personal pregame headcanons, which were fun to come up with and hopefully don't seem too out of left field. The other fic in this series isn't necessary to read before this one but it might help with your understanding of the events right before this fic and the characters' initial thoughts. Child abuse is mentioned and written about in this fic so if that's a trigger for you, you might want to avoid this story. Title is from the song "If You Love Me Come Clean" by Flatsound. I hope you enjoy! I'm @dykeenvy on Tumblr, follow me there if you wanna talk oumota!

“So, how much do you remember from… y’know, before?” Kokichi takes a second to observe Momota standing before him. The boy shifts from foot to foot, somehow more unsteady now than he was when he was wearing literal slippers in-game. Momota isn’t looking directly at him, instead choosing to have some kind of staring contest with the alarm clock sitting on Kokichi’s bedside table. He’s just as easy to read as he always has been, his heart constantly spilling out of his mouth. Kokichi wonders if that’s where all the blood he was always coughing up originated from.

Still, he can’t help but find the boy interesting. Maybe it’s the fact that he never before thought another human being was capable of the sheer levels of stupidity Momota displayed and then often surpassed. Maybe it’s the mask perpetually nailed down onto Momota’s face like armor, the one that only Kokichi can seem to see the edges of. For all his talk of believing and trusting in others, Momota sure seems scared to acknowledge his own act. The contradictions in him and the possibility of removing each nail and making Momota look at himself in the mirror for once is a thought that’s certainly exciting to Kokichi, and one that keeps him from simply leaving the idiot alone, though he has to admit he likes observing Momota bluster about with his mask on as well. 

Maybe Kokichi just likes the reactions he can get from him, maybe he likes being chased, maybe he likes the looks Momota had started to give him in the hangar, less like how he looked at his little pet projects, his sidekicks, and more like a puzzle he wanted desperately to solve, more like a partner- Or, maybe, he’s interested in Momota for the exact reason the other boy is bringing up now. The silence has stretched on long enough, and as funny as it is to watch Momota squirm, Kokichi has always preferred hearing him splutter and make excuses.

“Hmm… I don’t know, Mo-mo-ta-chan.” He stretches out each syllable, and Momota scoffs at the lilt in his voice. “Nothing interesting, really. Y’know, doing homework, watching Danganronpa, making out behind the school-” Momota cuts him off, as if he wasn’t the one that approached Kokichi to talk in the first place. Rude.

“Alright, alright! That’s enough.” His ears are tinged red, and it contrasts nicely with the magenta of his stupid hairstyle. Momota seems to willfully bring his voice back down a couple octaves. “I was just, y’know, wonderin’. I’ve been slowly… remembering shit too.” Kokichi smiles at that, and for once it’s not entirely forced. Momota-chan really is too funny.

“You’ve been remembering me? How romantic!” Momota finally makes eye contact with him as Kokichi’s voice dips down into a honeyed-tone. He makes sure to bat his eyelashes extra hard now that Momota is finally properly paying attention to him.

“Hey, keep it down, alright?” Kokichi can tell Momota’s doing his best not to stutter through his words, though the shifting of his posture and the red spreading across his face give away his nervousness. Kokichi remembers getting his hands on the recording of the fifth trial and how Momota had confidently accepted Maki’s confession without seemingly getting flustered at all. Interesting. “I just wanted to see if you… remembered the same shit, I guess. Fuck, I don’t know.”

Kokichi hums and pauses a few seconds, if only to keep Momota in suspense. “Well, I guess it is good to make sure we’re on the same page here. After all, wouldn’t it just suck to have not one but two fictional pasts?” Momota bristles like a guard dog, or maybe like a yappy chihuahua. 

“Can you not be a dick for like, two seconds? The game’s over. I was never your fucking enemy, and I’m sure as hell not now. I know you, after all.” Kokichi isn’t sure whether to be insulted or baffled by Momota’s claim that he knows him; unpredictability is his specialty, after all. At the same time, the astronaut is giving him that look again, like he wants to know Kokichi, like he knows that even with what happened at the ends of their lives there’s still more to be uncovered. Kokichi shivers underneath that gaze and attempts to cover it up with a giggle. He gets the urge to say something too honest or maybe steal the other boy’s jacket. He’s suddenly in the mood for a chase, and if his legs were working he might feel inclined to give into that urge.

“Oh, so you know me, huh, Momota-chan! Interesting, interesting. Well, I guess now the question is; what do you want to do with all your information?” He cocks his head to the side and narrows his eyes at the other boy. “What did you reeeeallly come here for, Momota-chan? What do you want with little old me?” 

Momota sputters and looks away yet again. “I just… I don’t fucking know! I felt like we should talk about this! This is too fucking weird, right?” For once, Kokichi has to agree with him. They’re both so different than before, as far as Kokichi can tell from the brief flashes of memory he’s experienced, and yet the similarities are unavoidable. Kaito’s brashness, his violence, his body always in motion. The scent of cigarettes clinging to his school uniform, the determination blazing in his eyes, the bark of his laugh echoing through a room and drowning out any smaller personality in the vicinity. Kokichi vaguely remembers how quiet he himself was before, too small for anyone in the class to look twice at, but how there was always an undeniable cleverness and need to prove himself that neither boy could back away from. Their dynamic from before the game and their dynamic now overlap in his head and have become impossible to separate.

Kokichi sees himself being chased by Momota and he can’t tell if it’s because he’s just snatched the keycard or because he’s dared to call the school delinquent an idiot in front of his buddies. The memory of Kaito catching up with him and grabbing him by the collar, the challenging glare mirrored in each of their eyes, lips connecting in a fit of inevitability a second later, is undeniably from before the game, though Kokichi wonders what would have happened if he had ever let Momota catch up in the game.

It seems that while Team Danganronpa screwed with their personalities and talents and backstories, it was easier to implant new traits and memories that overlapped and overwrote the old ones than completely erase them. That’s why they bothered auditioning at all instead of just sending in headshots. They were not entirely different people, as much as some desperately wished they were.

Kokichi can still visualize the bruise Momota left on his face, though he can’t exactly blame the other boy. His violence from before and his violence now are both an emotion that Kokichi realizes stems from the need to get something, anything, done, rather than a simple want for blood, though he doesn’t know if either version of Momota has realized that. Kokichi feels the urge for a chase rise back in him at that thought, and he once again wishes he could feel his legs.

“What’s weird about it, huh? The fact that we dated before or the fact that you still want to?” Kokichi makes sure his smile comes off as too sweet to be innocent, but he really is curious about how the other boy will answer. Does Momota know he still wants Kokichi, or is Kokichi projecting? He’s not sure which option is truth and which is something he’s written up for himself to enjoy, but that’s what makes this interesting.

Momota’s reaction is instantly gratifying. Wow, and Kokichi had thought he was red before. “It’s… I don’t… that’s way too weird, c’mon man! We don’t even like each other, right?” Honestly, Kokichi is just surprised that Momota isn’t going into some kind of gay panic right now. Still, his reaction is compelling. It’s like he’s trying to rationalize something to himself, though Kokichi can’t pinpoint exactly what that could be.

“Really? But I love you, Momota-chan!” Momota drags a hand across his face, though it does little to disguise his flustered expression.

“Kn-Knock it off dude! Quit lying-” Kokichi makes sure to cut him off with another hum.

“Well, I suppose it’s anyone’s guess as to whether or not we’re friends. Do acquaintances die for each other?” Momota’s face grows more serious at that. Kokichi had expected him to act all guilty for killing him when they woke up, but Momota hasn’t apologized once, which he appreciates. Instead, the other boy keeps sitting next to him at meals and wheeling him around and giving him that same look, which Kokichi also appreciates. Instead of avoiding all talk of their deaths, Momota continues treating him like he did back when they had started to get to work in the hangar, when he got genuinely excited about Kokichi’s plan, when they worked together to figure out how to perfectly set up the scene and time the press and the camera and pilot the exisal, and Kaito kept gazing over at him with some kind of determination blazing in his eyes. Even with the somber mood of the hangar, even with death settling into their bones like an uninvited house guest, Kaito kept giving him that look that meant he knew they were going out with a bang no matter what. It was then that Kokichi knew entrusting him to carry out his plan had been the right call, even if both their hands had been forced; Kaito wouldn’t be one to give up halfway through the trial, he’d see it through.

Really, they made a good team, Kokichi thinks. Their dual stubbornness and opposite charismatic abilities really makes Kokichi want to rope Momota into planning out some kind of heist with him.

Regardless of their friendship status and ability to annoy each other to no end and Momota’s apparent idiocy, they certainly ended up as partners forged in blood, and Kokichi finds it hard to not want to work together, though he’ll never say that out loud. Nothing is more fun than being contrary, especially with Momota-chan, after all.

“I don’t know what the hell we are.” Momota looks him up and down like he’s examining him, and Kokichi gives him some time to come to a conclusion. “Listen, I don’t know if I could ever, like, fall in love with you, man.” Momota glances to the side as he says this, and Kokichi has never wanted to pry off his mask and see him vulnerable so badly. At the same time, he thinks he’ll let Momota lie to himself right now; this is a conclusion he has to come to without any help. Momota’s mask is just as entertaining as what’s underneath, after all. “But I meant what I said back in the hangar; I want to know you.”

Kokichi does remember Momota saying that, covered in some flowery language about how a real scientist doesn’t leave a question unsolved or something like that. He still isn’t quite sure if they’re friends or acquaintances or lovers, but they do have all the time in the world to figure each other out now, and isn’t that really what they had both wanted back in the hangar? At the very least, he’s positive neither of them is going to be able to get rid of the other at this point.

“Let’s make a deal then, Momota-chan!” The other boy narrows his eyes warily but gestures for him to continue nonetheless. “I’ll graciously let you keep hanging out with me, and you can keep trying to figure me out, and when you inevitably fall back into being madly in love with me I won’t fake my death just to get away from you!”

“Quit screwin’ around!”

“Ah, I’m serious though.” Kokichi makes sure to drop the grin from his face now. “I don’t see why anything has to change. We know what we were, we know what we are, how about we just keep pestering each other until things make sense? Sound good?” Momota nods slowly.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. Odds are we’re never really gonna like each other as we are now, anyways.” Kokichi makes sure he doesn’t bring up how Momota’s been glued to his hip for the past week, ever since he’s woken up, mainly because Kokichi would have to admit how he’s never quite asked him to leave. “It’s… probably best not to mention this shit to the others, though.”

“Oh, definitely. Harumaki-chan would certainly kill me, that’s for sure!” Momota visibly flinches at his sidekick’s name. Kokichi isn’t sure if they’ve talked to each other about Harukawa’s confession yet; he hasn’t exactly cared enough to ask, and even if he can’t hate Harukawa for the fictional blood on her hands anymore for a number of reasons doesn’t mean he feels the urge to buddy up to her. “So, we keep hanging around each other for as long it takes and keep silent about what we were, that’s the deal?” Momota nods. “How about we seal our deal with a kiss, then!” Kokichi can’t help making the jape and he also can’t help puckering his lips up comically and leaning forward. Momota’s blush, which had faded at the seriousness of their conversation, blooms back in full force.

“Qui- Quit it!” He shoves a hand at Kokichi’s face to push him away and Kokichi licks his palm in an act of defiance. “Oh my god you’re the fucking worst! I can’t believe we fucking dated!”

“You can’t leave me now Momota-chan, we have a deal! I know you love me!” Momota rolls his eyes and wipes his hand on his pants, but he doesn’t quite deny the claim. Oh, Kokichi is going to enjoy figuring out just what exactly they are. 

“Let’s just get to the cafeteria, yeah? It’s about dinner time and you fucking promised you’d let me beat you at chess tonight!” The entire conversation is pushed away as a new challenge is presented to both boys. Momota begins to help Kokichi out of his hospital bed and into his nearby wheelchair.

“I said I promised I’d let you try, Momota-chan! Though with your luck and intelligence, playing chess with you feels more like playing chess with a monkey! No wonder they were gonna send you to space!” Momota slams his bedroom door open and walks them both towards the cafeteria on the other side of the building.

“Shut the fuck up jackass, I’ve fucking beaten you before! And I saw your goddamn face when I did, so don’t go telling me you let me win or some shit!” Kokichi giggles into his hand.

“I am a pretty good liar though, you know. I could have just been pretending to be surprised! I have to keep your motivation up so we can play again, after all!” Momota grunts in annoyance and continues yelling at him.

Oh yes, he’s definitely going to enjoy figuring out what they are.

\--

By the time they get to the cafeteria, it’s late enough that Harukawa and Saihara are on their way out. Kokichi can almost audibly hear Momota puff up his chest and plaster on a grin.

“Hey, Shuichi, Harumaki! How are my sidekicks doing?” Kokichi plasters on a grin of his own as both Harukawa and Saihara avert their eyes from them, though he’s unsure if it’s out of reverence for Momota or fear of him.

“Ah, Momota-kun.” Shuichi is the first to speak, his voice soft and grating in a way that Kokichi’s come to expect. Once his initial interest in meeting a real-life detective had faded, all he was left with was a boy that hated him. Well, that wasn’t quite right. Saihara’s reluctance to acknowledge him or play along even before he’d done anything unforgivable stung a bit more than the possibility of hatred. “We just finished dinner. Sorry we missed you.”

“Yeah. Sorry we missed you.” Harukawa has an almost-embarrassed frown on her face as she still avoids eye contact with Momota. Her hands drift to tug on the ends of her hair and Kokichi would almost feel sorry for the girl if he could bring himself to feel anything for her at all. He knows from his own experiences that Momota hasn’t been spending much time with either of the two over the past week.

“Hey, no worries, right! We’ll get to see each other more during the family reunion at the end of the week after all!” Ah, right. Kokichi’s been doing his best not to think about that particular event; for the first time since they’ve woken up, family will be allowed to visit. As he speaks, Momota’s voice seems to echo in the emptiness of the hallway they’re currently standing in, and even with the background clatter coming from the cafeteria things feel quiet. The fluorescent lights bouncing off the white walls and tiles of the building only emphasize the surrounding unoccupied space.

“We could…” Harukawa starts speaking, but cuts herself off before she can finish. “Nevermind. I guess we’ll see you then.” She starts to walk off, and Kokichi can’t help but notice that her gait is no longer that of a predator now that they’re out of the game. He wonders if it’s due to some character development he didn’t bother paying attention to or simply the fact that her body is no longer what it was supposed to be. From what he understands, some of the others that had talents with physical aspects like Angie and Iruma had found that their hands did not always cooperate with what they expected them to be able to do now that they once again occupied real bodies.

“Yes, I suppose we’ll see you then, Momota-kun.” Saihara gives him a smile before finally glancing down nervously at Kokichi. “Ah, you too, Ouma-kun.” 

Kokichi just hums in response. He isn’t quite sure how to talk to the others now that he’s no longer a corpse or a body expecting to die. He knows he wouldn’t be talking to Momota this much if the other boy hadn’t stayed by his side to pester him past his own initial awakening.

The truth is, he isn’t sure exactly what role he’s supposed to be playing now. The curtains closed on his villain act and the others all expect something out of him but he’s not sure what to give them. He could certainly make an attempt to be liked and spend all his time crying and begging for forgiveness to gain their sympathies, or he could lean into all the inhuman parts of himself and pretend he feels nothing for the blood still caked under his fingernails, but he’s not sure he has the energy for either role. He knows most people are waiting for him to make a move and put on a show for them so they can make a judgement call and figure out just what exactly he is, but he’s sure as hell not about to give anyone any easy answers.

Harukawa turns and beckons Saihara to keep walking before Kokichi can say anything even if he had wanted to, and the other boy gives one more nervous smile before he, too leaves. As both of the others disappear from their sight, Momota lets out half a sigh before he seems to remember himself. Kokichi doesn’t know why Momota’s sidekicks seem to exhaust him now, but he does know that the other boy had been running himself ragged to prove his own heroism during the game. Perhaps it’s finally caught up to him.

Regardless, Momota doesn’t say anything about the stilted conversation and Kokichi doesn’t ask. He thinks half the reason Momota hangs out with him may just be that neither boy has any expectations of the other; they both know who they’re pretending to be and they both know that some aspects of those personas are better off unquestioned.

As Momota takes them both to grab food from the buffet and they pick a table away from the hospital staff and any of their other dead classmates, Kokichi picks up a butter knife and weighs it in his hand. For just a moment, he allows himself to feel the clean stainless steel of the utensil and imagine the press underneath and above him. He allows himself just a moment to imagine a death that would have mattered and not a life spent learning how to live. Momota hasn’t asked him yet if the press had hurt when it came down and Kokichi’s glad; he’s a very good liar, but he’s not sure if he’s quite that good.

\--

The sun has set by the time they make their way to the small hospital game room, though even calling it a game room may be too generous a term. The room consists of a singular table and a half-empty bookshelf that didn’t even rise up as tall as Kokichi’s height. Kokichi supposes Team Danganronpa was more concerned with putting their money towards their fancy VR technology that would let them kill a bunch of teenagers without having a lawsuit brought down on their heads.

Though the VR world was supposed to let them die without consequence, apparently the stunt he had pulled for the fifth trial fucked him over in more ways than one; without knowing who had died, none of the nurses knew who to pull out of the simulation. Although he doesn’t quite remember it, the time he had spent half-dead from when the press went down to Momota’s brave reveal had apparently left its mark on him.

Kokichi wheels himself over to the worn table in the center of the room as Momota grabs the chess board sitting on the bottom shelf of the bookshelf and walks over to meet him. Kokichi keeps his eyes trained on Momota’s hands that have always appeared too large and too rough for anything resembling delicate work as he nevertheless carefully places each piece on the board.

He’s struck by the sudden memory of those same hands curling around a lighter, his fingers wrapped gently around the plastic body as his thumb strikes down on the spark wheel. He can picture his loose hold on a cigarette as Kokichi quips that those things’ll kill him one day, back when death was something to consider for the future and not an entity sleeping at the foot of their beds. He can picture, too, Momota’s hand wrapped around his own, and how the calluses on his skin from too many fights had been expected but the gentleness of his grasp had not been. Kokichi finds himself needing to look away.

“Alright, what color do you want?” Momota’s voice brings him out of his thoughts and he looks up to find the other boy looking at him expectantly. 

“Wellllll, since you’re the white knight here and you’re so desperate to win, you can take white tonight.” He lets a smile stretch across his face, one that is not entirely forced but isn’t quite natural yet. Momota settles down and begins to make his first move of the game.

“Do you really mean that?” His voice is gruff as he picks up a piece and sets it down on an adjacent square. Kokichi has to stop himself from tracking the other boy’s hands again as he considers the odd question.

“Huh? That you’re desperate? You’d have to be after losing to me over and over for the past week-”

“No, no, not that. The- the white knight shit.” Momota has made his move but he still isn’t looking at him. Kokichi cocks his head to the side.

“What, do you see yourself as more of a princely figure, Momota-chan? That’s awfully conceited of you, but I guess I can see it too. Though I’m not sure how a crown would fit over that hair-do of yours.” Momota rolls his eyes and shakes his head before seemingly coming to a decision.

“Am I- was I- a hero?” For all that he thought he was prepared for a question like that, it still throws Kokichi off in the moment.

“Well, I’m sure whoever wrote you up expected you to be one. Why, feeling guilty, Momota-chan?” Kokichi hadn’t thought Momota regretted what had happened in the hangar, but perhaps the other boy would surprise him yet again. Momota doesn’t hesitate before answering.

“No. No, I’m not sorry for killing you, especially after you practically fucking begged me to.” Kokichi opens his mouth to interject over his word choice but Momota continues before he can. “But I am sorry you died. Does that… does that make sense?”

“I suppose…” He takes a second to think over his answer before giving one. “I suppose it does. Though I thought you hated me.”

“I thought so too. Doesn’t mean I don’t hear that shit in my sleep.” Kokichi isn’t sure if Momota’s talking about his yelling or his crying or the sound his body must’ve made but he realizes he doesn’t want to know.

“Y’know you gave me the best death I could’ve asked for, right, Momota-chan?” Momota scoffs at that.

“That better be a fuckin’ lie! Two crossbow bolts, poisoned, crushed to death… Not even a fuckin’ masochist would want that shit.”

“No, but at least it was off camera. At least I wasn’t entertaining anyone, for once.” The room is silent as Momota processes his remark, the chess game forgotten between them. He nods slowly, as if to convey that he understands but he still doesn’t quite like it. “Alright, let me spin the question on you, then. Was I a villain?” Again, Momota doesn’t pause before answering him.

“No, but I’m sure whoever wrote you wanted you to be one.” Kokichi smiles wryly at him. 

“Good answer. Very clever, really.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Momota shakes his head as if to clear it of his frustration before continuing. “I don’t think either of us could be considered a hero or a villain after everything that happened. I think we’re just people, and I guess we’re going to have to live with that.” He frowns, and Kokichi finally moves a chess piece of his own before responding.

“I think we could still fit into our roles. After all, heroes kill their villains all the time.”

“Not the good ones.”

“Ah, but what about Tarzan, though? I did say you were like an ape, Momota-chan!” Momota barks out a laugh and Kokichi decides that he doesn’t quite hate the sound.

“Gotta be honest, I didn’t expect you to make that weird fucking comparison and Tarzan isn’t exactly the fucking hero I’d like to be compared to anyways.”

“Who is your ideal hero then? Oh, let me guess-”

“No, I’m sure I don’t want to hear any of your guesses-”

“Oh, but what about Green Lantern though! It’s not realllllly your color but you would get to go to space, wouldn't you? Maybe even die there!”

Momota gives him an exasperated look as Kokichi beams at him. “Y’know, for half a second, I actually thought your answer wasn’t gonna be rude. Green Lantern still isn’t the hero choice I’d go for, I was much more of a Batman kid growin’ up anyways-” Ah, Kokichi loves it when Momota plays along. Batman is an unexpected choice, he wouldn’t think that Momota would like the grimness of the hero, but he supposes the man did have a firm moral code, an endless supply of sidekicks, and the ability to think on his feet and give a good monologue so perhaps it does make a bit of sense.

“-But I’m not really sure I have an ideal hero. I think I’d like to be able to just…” Momota looks almost ashamed for a second. “I’d like to be able to live. For myself. And be comfortable with that.”

“Ah, I knew you were secretly selfish, Momota-chan!” Momota makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat and Kokichi realizes he liked his laugh better. “But that’s a lie! Frankly, your standards are too low. I get that you want to save the day and all but living for yourself is something you should probably take care of first. I don’t know who could have possibly told you otherwise, but thinking like that might be the death of you one day!” Momota gives half a nod in recognition of his words before moving a chess piece and turning to look him directly in his eyes. Kokichi’s breath catches in the back of his throat.

“You’re a fucking hypocrite.” He can’t even say anything in response that would appropriately prove or disprove Momota’s words, so he just lets the silence grow between them for a moment before making his own move. “Shuichi and Harumaki sure as hell still look at me like I’m a hero.”

Ah, so that’s what this is about. Momota’s finally become self-aware of the weight of his own mask on his face. Kokichi doesn’t respond just yet and waits for Momota to continue.

“They keep looking at me like… like I have something left to give them, but I don’t think that I do. I died for them, y’know. I died for you, yeah, but I died so they could keep living, too. Even before the hangar, I was dying for them. And I kept my mouth shut about that because I thought it would be better than havin’ to watch everyone mope over me. I died a hero. And then, well, I woke up. And I just can’t keep doin’ it. I can’t… I just… everytime they look at me like they need something out of me I feel like I’m dying again. I don’t regret helping them but I also know who I was before the game and I know who I was during the game and I sure as hell don’t know who I am now.” Momota’s frustration is palpable as he suddenly cuts himself off with a growl and pauses to move his own chess piece.

“Y’know, it’s funny. They keep looking at me like I have anything left to take from them.” Momota looks up at him sharply and gives him that look again, and things begin to make sense between them. They are two kids who wanted to be more than human. They are two kids that paid the price for that. They are two kids who are relearning how to want without taking too much, and without flinching. They are alive and one day, that, too, will make sense without any need for justification.

For a moment, Kokichi pauses, his own chess piece grasped loosely in his palm. “I want a different story, Momota-chan.”

“Yeah. Me too.” The silence settles once more. 

\--

By the time Momota and Kokichi return to the hospital rooms, the moon has already risen high in the sky. There’s technically no enforced curfew for any of the former contestants, but the hallway lights are turned off at ten pm each night. The sound of Momota’s footsteps and the occasional creak from his wheelchair and something tentatively brave are all that fill the space between them. 

Momota stops outside of Kokichi’s room, his grip turning white-knuckled on the wheelchair handles. “Hey.”

“Yes?”

“How have you been sleeping?” Kokichi doesn’t answer that he hasn’t been. How boring, how predictable. Momota has seen enough vulnerability from him for the night.

“In my bed, of course!” Momota sighs, and Kokichi thinks he can almost hear the other boy clench his teeth. “But, if Momota-chan wanted to have a sleepover, I wouldn’t complain!”  
Momota doesn’t respond and for a second, Kokichi thinks he’s gonna leave. He doesn’t think he misunderstood the purpose behind Momota’s question but the other boy has certainly surprised him before.

“Where the hell would I even sleep, dumbass?” Perhaps, though, his acceptance is even more surprising in this scenario than the alternative.

“On the floor. In the armchair. In my bed. I could duct tape you to the ceiling if that would make you more comfortable!”

“You couldn’t reach the ceiling even if you could fucking stand you little gremlin.” Kokichi snickers. “And you’re fuckin’ crazier than I thought if you think those beds are big enough to share.”

“Well, you said it yourself. I am pretty small.”

“Yeah?”

“Yup.”

Momota maneuvers the two of them into Kokichi’s room without another word. They don’t bother changing into pajamas; the sweats and T-shirts provided by Team Danganronpa are comfortable enough, and it’s not like they’re getting much exercise in them. Besides, Kokichi’s afraid any mention of reality might snap them out of this strange pocket they’ve created for themselves. Reality didn’t want either of them and that’s fine, really. They’ll make do with where they’ve found themselves now.

Kokichi is placed into his bed and Momota clambers in after him. The warmth of another body prevents any comparisons to the hangar for once, and Kokichi doesn’t particularly feel like thinking about dying for the first time that day. Momota was right, really; the beds are small. But Kokichi was right as well; he’s small, and even though Momota starts to starfish in the bed before he even falls asleep Kokichi prefers to curl up on top of him as best he can anyways. For the first time since the game started, Kokichi finds himself in a bedroom that doesn’t feel like a tomb. And for the first time since waking up, both he and Momota are able to sleep without interruption.

\--

The end of the week rolls around before Kokichi has the chance to find a way out of visiting hours. At ten am on a Saturday morning, the entire cast of the 53rd season of Danganronpa, sans Shirogane and Kiibo of course, crowds into the common room of the private hospital they’ve been residing in. Some look more excited than others to be reuniting with family, and Momota thrums with a nervous energy beside him. Kokichi keeps his eyes on the other boy and carefully avoids interacting with any of the others that keep looking at him. If they’re trying to conceal their glances, they’re doing a poor job of it.

“Y’know, I never met your folks even when we were together.” Momota casually makes that statement even when they’re surrounded by the people they’ve mutually decided to lie to. Kokichi could almost laugh at his idiocy if the other boy’s acceptance of their past didn’t make him flush.

“I know.” He vaguely remembers that Momota lived with his grandparents before they had auditioned, but he was never introduced into his home life either. Their relationship had been mostly confined to moments they could steal away during school or just afterwards, for a number of reasons. What they had was just as unconventional and unacceptable as it was inevitable; two boys that both kept their mouths shut about what they were thinking more often than not, two boys that became mirror images of one another, opposite but still equal. It was a miracle they had started speaking to one another in the first place, to be honest; Kokichi was at the top of the class but spent most of his time trying desperately to blend in, and Momota skipped class more often than he attended but there wasn’t a person in school that didn’t know his name. He wasn’t exactly a bully but no one would’ve accused him of being an upstanding citizen, what with the amount of fights he picked. After accidentally causing a mess in the classroom both boys had ended up with cleaning duty together and, well, it was all downhill from there.

“Are you…” Momota pauses and looks him up and down, suddenly unsure of his words. “Nervous?”

Kokichi shakes his head. “Nope! They’re not coming.”

“You think so?” The other boy narrows his eyes at him and he knows he’s trying to remember what Kokichi had mentioned of his parents before. His effort is futile; Kokichi knows he’s never said anything about them.

“Oh, I’m positive.” He wants to say something else, make some kind of joke out of the situation, but it feel like there are fingers slowly encircling his throat. He feels sick. He feels like a wild animal.

Momota looks like he’s about to say more but the doors to the hospital are opening; the first few sets of family are trickling in. Kokichi watches an older man walk in and approach Saihara, who had looked like he was waiting for a moment to talk to Momota. A group of young girls with identical moss-brown hair all walk in and swarm Amami, who gives the first genuine smile Kokichi has seen on him. Harukawa is approached by a man and a woman who must be her parents, and she looks as if she doesn’t quite know what to do with herself. Others enter the room as well, and at some point it seems as if Hoshi’s entire extended family makes an appearance.

Momota’s grandparents also get there eventually and exchange a hug with their grandson; they look old and sickly and Kokichi has a sudden flash of memory of Momota talking about how badly he had needed the money from winning. Things appear strained between them but both sides of the reunion seem happy nonetheless. Momota introduces him briefly but Kokichi exits the conversation as soon as he can when their judging eyes turn to him.

An hour passes and it seems as if everyone has had someone come to visit them. Families are getting up to leave and nurses have just begun signing them out when the hospital doors swing open once more. Kokichi would like to say that it’s just chance that that’s where he was looking when his parents finally arrived but truthfully, he’s been anxiously glancing towards the entrance ever since the start of the hour.

There’s no mistaking the resemblance; his mother has the same shoulder-length swoosh of hair that he has and his father has his pale skin. There’s also the fact that no one else in the room is lacking family of some kind at the moment. Momota seems to recognize this as well and turns from his conversation with his grandparents. He starts to speak. “Hey, is that-”

The fingers squeeze tighter around his throat. His parents exude a familiar cold anger. He’s never liked their particular combination of disinterest and scorn, and the air seems ripe with it now.

“How dare you-” His mother speaks first, her voice quiet and forceful in a way that makes him dizzy. He wishes, all of a sudden, that he could actually embody the persona he wore in the game; fearless and loud and uncaring of the opinions of others. “I can’t believe you… our own son- you made a mockery of us!” She stutters and spits the words out at him and Kokichi can’t bring himself to respond.

“The audacity to sign up for that disgusting TV show. You should be ashamed. And I thought I was used to you disappointing us.” Kokichi feels Momota bristle up at his father’s words.

“Hey, you can’t say that kind of shit-” But Kokichi’s parents rob Momota of his voice too. They don’t even look at the other boy before continuing.

“What’s wrong with you? You always did like attention too much. You always were too loud. How could you embarrass us on television like that, acting the way you did; I can’t believe you would do something like that without telling us.” Kokichi is too busy staring into his mother’s wide eyes and the tears brimming at the corners to notice her hand raising. She brings it down on his face slow enough that he really feels the impact, slow enough that he sees it a split second before it hits him; like a hydraulic press lowering down at a constant pace. His head is shoved to the side and for a second he thinks he’s crying, but it’s just his eye stinging from where her palm made contact. He keeps his gaze locked on her’s.

“If you think you’re welcome back in the house, you’re sorely mistaken. We won’t be associating with you any longer.” His father’s words are cold and impersonal, like he’s firing an employee and not disowning his son. Not even a second passes before Kokichi can feel his fingers wrap around the puppet strings he’s attached to his own face once more, and he can picture the disarming grin he gives them in his mind’s eye.

“Nishishi!” He can practically hear the other contestants cringe at the sound of his signature laugh; it’s the first time he’s used it since the show ended. Beside him, Momota startles for a moment at the change in his character. “Aww, I can’t believe you want me gone that badly, I haven’t even done anything yet! Welllll, if you miss me you can always buy something that reminds you of me, y’know! Maybe a pet rat!” He watches his parents take a step back, out of shock, maybe. Even if they had hated him before the game, this is an entirely new person they haven’t had the displeasure of meeting yet. He flicks his fingers and the puppet strings twitch accordingly to shape his smile into an expression of excitement.

“Oh, oh, or you could buy a juice press!” He moves his hands to mimic a sort-of squishing motion, complete with his own added sound effects. “That way I can really be useful!”

His mother grimaces. “You’re disgusting.” His father just shakes his head at him.

“He’s not worth it. We’re leaving.” And with that, the two exit the hospital without sparing him another glance.

He remembers auditioning. He remembers wanting so badly to get out of that house. He remembers wanting to prove himself. He remembers wanting to matter. To make a real difference to someone. The puppet strings snap and his face falls blank. 

“Fuck you!” Momota calls after his parents but they’ve already left. He turns to face Kokichi. “Hey, man, are you okay?” At his words, Kokichi feels his face screw up. His in-game persona is good, but it seems as if it’s finally run out of fuel.

“I’m going to throw up.” Momota scrambles to grab the nearest trash can and Kokichi reaches for it, his small hands clenching desperately around the rim. The sting from his mother’s slap feels like a brand on his cheek. It’s funny, he thinks; he’s got two lives under his belt now and not one good set of parents. Hilarious, even. His laughter comes out as a choked sound into the garbage can, but no vomit comes out along with it. There is a certain sort of anger spreading through his chest that he had mistaken for sickness, maybe because the last time he had felt it to this extent was when there was poison coursing through him.

In the back of his mind, he registers the sound of Momota saying goodbye to his grandparents and telling the nurses that he’ll handle this. His voice is forceful enough that no one puts up a protest, and before long Momota is prying the unused bin from his fingers and rubbing his back. The comfort is unexpected but Kokichi doesn’t know if it’s because Momota is supposed to hate him or because he isn’t supposed to be touched gently.

Regardless of their fronts and personas, in that moment, Momota saves him. Seconds pass and Kokichi realizes they’re moving; Momota is steering them both back towards the rooms.

His door clicks shut behind them and Momota helps him into bed and the room becomes silent save for the sound of his heavy breathing.

“Hey-” Momota starts to speak but Kokichi cuts him off before he has to hear it.

“Why are you here?” He’s angry, he realizes. He’s really angry. He’s furious.

“What?” The other boy startles at his exclamation.

“What, are you deaf?” He flings the words at Momota like they have any sort of power at all, when everything that’s ever happened to him both in and out of game has proven otherwise. “I said, why the fuck are you here?”

Momota reacts as he had expected him to, bristling up in response to Kokichi’s misplaced anger. That’s good, though. A fight is just what they need. “What, did you expect me to just fucking leave you back there? Who do you think I fucking am?”

“I think you get off on taking in people who are smaller than you to make yourself feel bigger. The last thing I need is your pity.” Kokichi relishes in how Momota now looks like he’s the one that’s been slapped.

“I don’t fucking- it’s called helping people, you jackass! And the last thing I feel towards you is pity! Goddammit, I thought we’d been over this!” Momota clenches a fist and for just a second, Kokichi hopes it makes contact with him. It would make things feel a little more normal, at the very least.

“So you don’t feel guilty, and you don’t pity me, so what exactly are you here for? You’re running out of options, Momota-chan!” He makes sure his voice goes sickly sweet in a way that Momota is sure to hate. He wants him to leave. He wants him to want to leave. He wants to know exactly what it will take to get the other boy to that point.

“I’m here for you, alright! I’m here for you, and you’re not gonna push me away just by yelling! I can yell back, y’know!” His words are confusing and infuriating and Kokichi feels a different kind of warmth all together spread through his chest.

“Alright, I’ll ask again, then; why are you here? What do you really want from me?” He throws the words from their earlier conversation back at Momota’s face and he can feel the tension swell and expand in the room, seeping out through the cracks in the window and beneath the floorboards. The connection between them is a living thing, and Kokichi wants badly to put a leash on it just so he’ll be able to control it for once in his life.

“I want…” Momota doesn’t break eye contact when he gives his answer. “I want you.”

“Why?” Kokichi had been so sure in the game that no one had ever loved him. It was how he had figured out that the motive videos must have been fake to some extent, that the memories gifted to them couldn’t have possibly been real. He doesn’t understand how he could’ve had anyone before the game, and he definitely doesn’t understand how Momota could want him now after all the time he spent ruining himself.

“I don’t know. But you’re the only person that makes me feel like I’m not dying. You’re the only person that sees underneath all that shit I say to feel better and still thinks I’m interesting enough without it.” Kokichi frowns at just how much he understands what Momota is saying to him.

“I’m awful.”

“I know.”

“Really, I’m terrible.”

“Really, I fucking know.”

“I can’t promise I’ll ever be better than this. I’m a liar and all that’s underneath that is more lies.”

“I know. Or at least, I’m starting to. I’m still gonna figure you out, and I don’t need you to promise you’ll be better. I know that this isn’t the bottom. For either of us. We’re gonna climb out of here if it fucking kills us.”

Kokichi scoffs. “What, is that another one of your famous hunches?” Momota smiles at him, and it isn’t the same hero’s grin that he wore in-game but Kokichi thinks he likes it better. It’s softer, and it’s between them, and any softness that can exist between the clashing of their personalities is a small miracle in and of itself.

“I guess you could say that. Hey, when have I been wrong before?” Momota gives him a thumbs-up and winks and the tension in the room settles to a breathable level. The hand around Kokichi’s throat finally lets go.

“God, you’re sappy. And stupid.”

“Hey!”

“You’re the one that said you wanted me, you’re going to have to deal with the repercussions, Momota-chan!”

“I did say that, didn’t I?” Momota looks him up and down and Kokichi realizes he may have jumped the gun in thinking that the tension between them had settled. 

“Can I-”

“Momota-chan-”

They both speak at the same time and nervously glance away before looking back at one another. Sitting propped up in bed as he is now, Kokichi realizes they’re nearly eye-level. He gestures for Momota to continue, and the other boy clears his throat before speaking.

“Can I kiss you?”

Kokichi doesn’t feel the need to say that he was about to ask the same thing. He just nods.

Kaito comes closer, hesitant in a way that he has never seen him before. Up close like this, Kokichi can smell the sweat and hair spray and stale cologne on the other boy. He can see the color of his eyes well enough to perhaps one day come up with a word for it. He can count the stubble lining his face around his stupid goatee, but none of that matters because in a moment, he will be feeling it instead.

Their first kiss that they can properly remember is done with both of their eyes open. Kaito seems too scared to miss to close his eyes and Kokichi isn’t quite done memorizing the sight before him. He wants to know this is real before blinking. Kaito’s lips are chapped and neither boy seems to know what to do but it’s good because it’s them. If there’s one thing they’re both skilled at, it’s making something out of nothing; it’s pulling miracles out of unsolvable situations.

Their second kiss that they can properly remember is done with their eyes closed. Kaito has found his mark and Kokichi knows this is real and there is nothing more to think about anyways. Kokichi reaches up to rest his hands around the back of Kaito’s neck, his thumb trailing up his jawline. Kaito surges forward and places one hand on the small of Kokichi’s back and the other on his right arm, as if he could reverse all the bleeding that had happened between them. And for the sake of this moment, he has. Kaito’s lungs are clear and Kokichi’s wounds are closed up and all the blood is washed down the drain.

They still don’t know who they are but they are together and for the moment, that is enough. They are enough and no one is ever going to make them forget that again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!


End file.
